She stood beside the on-site engineer, gesturing at a digital tablet. "The foundation depth has to be consistent with section B's measurements," he said.
Ivy nodded and moved on to the architect. Together, they discussed the day's plan. For the first time in months, Ivy felt alive.
After months of isolation and heartache, she had thrown herself into this—work during the day, college classes in the evening, collapsing into bed exhausted. Her routine had become her armor. She told herself she was healing, that this busyness was progress.
Her low-heeled shoes sank slightly into the uneven gravel. "Oh, fantastic," she muttered under her breath, trying to extract her heel.
One of the site workers nearby snorted. "You sure those are regulation footwear, ma'am?"
Ivy shot him a dry look.
